


No Hopers, Jokers, and Rogues

by Itch



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fantasy AU, M/M, Slow Build, Tags will be updated, description of violence, shapeshifter AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 03:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30099543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itch/pseuds/Itch
Summary: Claude von Riegan is known as a dragon tamer. He rescues the reptilians from villages where they shouldn't be, raises them, and escorts them to a suitable habitat to thrive in.Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is known as missing, a young prince who vanished from the face of the Earth and since his departure Fhirdiad had fallen into turmoil under the thumb of ruler Cornelia.One day, Claude finds Dimitri, only slightly less human than he'd imagined he'd be. He takes it upon himself to help Dimtiri break the curse that had been afflicting his family for generations, and help Dimitri get back to his rightful place on the throne.Dimitri however, decides along the way that Claude should stay by his side even when he's back in power.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29
Collections: Dimiclaude Big Bang 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, hello everyone and thank you for clicking on no hopers jokers and rogues! im really glad you're here, and i hope you enjoy this fic written for the dimiclaude big bang. thank you to the mods and admins for running it, and the BIGGEST thank you to requiemofkings for the beautiful artwork they have done to accompany this fic.

_ “Only the dead have seen the end of war” - Plato _

The silvery moon shone above the battlefield; light watery and casting a weak glow onto the haze that wisped over the grass. The steel weapons of the felled fighters were like fallen stars speckled across the dark, grass canvas. a gruesome constellation of war and death.  One last healer stood over a man, her hands at his chest, a pale white light emitting from her palms, trying one last feeble attempt to revive him. After a few seconds, she stopped and slowly sunk down till she was laying on top of him, shoulders shaking as her attempt was for nought. She couldn't save him. In the silence of the battlefield, her sobs echoed, although no one went to comfort her.

A few feet away, a man stood, staring his opponent down, both locked in a standoff that neither was willing to break. Standing behind the bulkier of the two men were the ten remaining fighters, various weapons clenched in their fists. The other man stood alone, a sword in his right hand, pointed down parallel to his thigh. His chest bore thick dark tribal tattoos, visible due to his armour, metal pauldrons and leather straps. His greying hair shaken loose from the ponytail he had it scooped into. A grizzled beard decorated his face, and if it hadn’t been for the weapon he might have looked like someone’s harmless grandfather, but the spine shaped sword he was gripping, and the blood splattered up his body spoke a different story.

“Do you yield?” He asked, voice booming over the flat land, and his opponents all steeled, weapons rising an inch. 

“If you think that we are going to bow to you Nemesis, you are wrong.” A blonde man, a blue cape draped over one shoulder that billowed in the breeze raised his spear, a menacing weapon shaped like a skeletal hand that looked like it could reach out and grab it’s enemy by the throat at a moment’s notice. “I will use Areadbhar to cut you down and halt your wrath.” He tilted the spear so it was pointed directly at Nemesis’ throat. “I will  _ end  _ you and the reign of terror you have been plaguing the land with.”

“Oh Loog.” Nemesis broke posture and laughed, turning his sword horizontal so it was flat and waved it lazily towards Loog and his army, his grip sloppy around the hilt. “Don’t be stupid, boy. You and that toothpick could not kill me if you tried. Besides…” he raised his other hand, and Loog’s right hand man approached from the flank, sword diagonal across his front in defense. His dark hair swished down by his waist, and behind him, a man with a shock of red hair readied his own spear, balanced like a javelin in his left hand, aimed perfectly over the dark haired man’s shoulder. 

“My liege-”

“Stand down Kyphon, Gautier.” Loog ordered, and they both stood stock still, waiting for another order from their leader. They could have gone forward, darted in and ended it all here, but they was loyal to a fault, and wouldn’t move without the order. Kyphon and Gautier were a well oiled machine, and with one command from Loog would send them both turning like gears, cutting down each and every enemy between them and their goal.

“You can not escape from this war Loog. Even once I die, you will not be satisfied. You cannot escape the lust for blood that courses through your veins, and I can guarantee that whilst your bloodline remains active, neither you nor your descendants will be able to escape that feeling. That urge to rip, to tear, to  _ eviscerate _ .” Kyphon’s lip curled and he moved his hands on the hilt of his sword, holding it steady, ready to let it dance. Loog’s arm stretched in front of him, a barrier between him and the enemy, preventing the next phase of the battle beginning. “If you do not give in to the urge, you will become a beast with an insatiable thirst for men’s blood. A thirst you will never be satisfy, no matter how many times you dip your hands into the foray of battle.” He snapped his fingers, a purple haze blossoming into existence around his hand before it leeched through the air into Loog's nose. 

Loog’s next breath caught in his throat as the haze etched runes into his lungs, and an all over itching feeling suddenly racing over every inch of his skin like poison oak. It took Kyphon only a second more to realise he had been incapacitated, and he ran forward towards Nemesis, sword primed and ready, but Nemesis’ cackle was his escape, vanishing in a cloud of acrid purple smoke. As Kyphon coughed and waved a hand in front of his face to try and clear the smoke, a deep, cacophonous roar echoed for miles, bouncing off the nearby hills and mountains. As the roar made those remaining clamp their hands over their ears, distracting them, Loog’s spear darted away, a mind of its own possessing it’s movement, sending it whistling towards a town nearby shrouded by shadow, and by the time dawn rose, there was no one left there. The ten remaining soldiers had scattered, and a tale was told from their mouths, passing down generation to generation. Of a battle that was neither won, not lost, one that never actually ended, a perpetual war inscribed on to the fabric of time.

~*~

A spear glinted in the darkness of the cave, the moonlight leaking through the fallen roof kissing the blade. A young boy clutched his father’s hand, staring at the way the weapon looked like it was about to fly from its place in the stone into his empty right hand. The only sounds other than their breathing was a  _ drip drip drip _ of water down the uneven walls into puddles on the ground.

“As a Blaiddyd, this spear is your legacy.” Lambert’s voice echoed in the space, and Dimitri looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“But Dad- I-” he started, wanting to finish with an excuse about not wanting it, not wanting to have to handle such a large and imposing thing. 

“No, son.” Lambert cut him off before he could carry on and he crouched down, putting both hands on Dimitri’s shoulders. “You don’t get to choose Areadbhar. He is both the blessing, and the curse, of the family.” Dimitri worried his bottom lip, a habit the child had picked up from watching his younger friends. “As a weapon, he is the strongest one in the land, capable of cutting down any enemy. As your father, I wish I could lie to you, and tell you that it was that simple, but as I can your predecessor and current wielder of the spear, I have to be honest. That strength comes at a price. Once you wield it, a curse befalls you. You  _ have _ to wield it again. Over and over it will call you. If you ignore it’s calling it will turn you into a bloodthirsty beast that will ramage over the lands, bereft of your humanity.” Dimitri looked out of the corner of his eye, cautiously watching the spear as if it were going to jump at his throat. The white shine at the tip of the blade seemed to blink red for a split second and his jaw tensed, unable to draw his eyes away from it.

“Why do you say I will have to use it? What if I don’t want to?” Lambert stared at his son, hair down to his shoulders, watching the spear and he let out a slow, heavy sigh. He remembered his father bringing him here, explaining the whole thing to him, and consoling him as he burst into tears at the thought of becoming this beast. Dimitri seemed a lot calmer than he did, and it worried him. His innocence, thinking he would have a choice to not wield it made him want to gather his son in his arms and hold him. He could  _ want  _ till the end of the time that he wouldn’t use Areadbhar, but there always came a time.

“I wish you had that freedom my boy. But at the time, it just feels like the only solution, and you do what’s right for your people.” Lambert regretted ever taking up the fight with it, but at the time he thought it was the right thing. It was as if something had possessed him and drove him to it. Lambert looked at Areadbhar, and wondered what Dimitri was looking at. His son hadn’t stopped staring at the weapon, as if transfixed by something. He couldn’t see the ghosts of the previous wielders circling around it in a tumultuous storm, skeletal hands reaching out for Dimitri, mouths unhinged and hanging, groans filling the cavern, but only for Dimitri’s ears only. Their mournful cries wrapped around Dimitri pulled him in, stealing his resolve, and cursing his soul with their poisonous curse.

“Okay...”


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude meets Dimitri for the first time

_ Come on you no hopers, jokers and rogues, we're on the road to nowhere let's see where it goes _

It was somewhere around noon, and the sun was directly above Claude, shining her rays down to bake the earth. The ground was cracked from lack of water, and tiny clouds of dust rose with each step. Claude stretched his arms above his head and laced his fingers together, clicking his knuckles as he yawned widely. The air was heady with the scent of flowers and dry dirt, and bees buzzed lazily from plant to plant along the sides of the road. The heat was making him feel sleepy, and he wondered about where the next village was, and if they would have a space in their inn. The last one he had stayed in had not been the best. A bar fight had started not long after the moon hit its peak, and the sounds of drunken yelling and the smashing of glass had kept him awake all night. Even after the last call, the worst offenders had hung around outside, squabbling until the early hours of the morning, wrestling in the mud only to be hoisted away by two guards who obviously were called in early to their shift to deal with it. The only consolation was that the bed had been soft, and the blankets warm. 

He had started his journey not long after daybreak, dew still heavy on the plants and mist coiling around his ankles. If it had been up to him, he would have slept a little more to make up for what he’d missed the night before, but he had been woken up by the young wyvern he was taking care of demanding breakfast from his pack. He had let her eat her fill from the berries he had stored in there, the bag now hanging half open so he could refill it with any ripe ones he saw hanging from bushes on their walk. At the next village he reminded himself to restock on other foods, bread and maybe some wax covered cheese. Something non-perishable maybe, like some salted meat wouldn’t go amiss too, although he would probably have to fight Echo for it.

Full with breakfast. Echo was now bouncing along behind him with red berry juice smeared across her snout, leaping after the occasional butterfly that strayed in front of her. Her young eyes were full of wonder with every new thing she came across as she traveled with Claude, and he found himself unable to tear a smile off his face as he watched her experience  _ everything.  _

“Echo my dear, you can’t eat every little bug that crosses your eye line, the world needs butterflies.” She chuffed back in response, tail thumping heavily on the ground in what Claude could only assume was wyvernian for ‘rude’. It was days like this that he truly loved his job. Claude worked as a Wyvern Trapper and Trainer (that was his  _ official _ title) but he called himself the wyvern wrangler when no one was listening. He took in young wyvern's abandoned by their parents, and rehabbed injured ones until they were strong enough to survive on their own. Echo was the fifth one that year that he'd taken under his cape, and it was only April. Usually he got at least two months before hatchling, but this year was very different. Something was strange, the balances of the world were changing, and he had decided that he wasn’t a huge fan of it.

He stopped to sit against a tree, biting chunks from an apple he’d picked. He then spat out each chunk to hand to Echo for her to toss around and pierce with her needle-like teeth. He  _ could  _ just give her the whole apple, but then she would eat it too quickly, and still be hungry later. This way it lasted longer, and they would get more from it before she needed something more. 

"So, where are you from my girl?" He hummed, rubbing at a dark mark between her nostrils. It was probably soot from a wayward sneeze, but nevertheless she deserved to look her best. "I'll be honest with you, I've never seen a wyvern so white before. Grey, I've seen plenty. A light grey I've seen a few, but  _ white _ white? Nope. So… are you a mountain girl? Caves half buried in snow?" She huffed, a curl of smoke wrapping around Claude's wrist. "I'm taking that as a no." Echo chirped, and snatched the apple from his hand, crunching down, juice spilling out of her mouth. "And that is gross. You'll be sticky later, and unless we find a stream you can’t even have a bath." He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the tree, listening to the soft  _ kkrrch _ of the apple and the cicadas screaming from various other trees nearby. It was this that he liked about the forests of Orobos, they were always lush and vibrant with life, both flora and fauna. Even in the dead of winter he found the evergreen trees kept the place alive with colour, and the winter mammals with their thick fur provided liveliness to the landscape.

When he got back to his feet and carried on walking, it seemed that the further he went down the path, the more lost Claude got. This stretch of trees and this sun dried dirt path felt like it was going to carry on forever, coil over the horizon and loop back around to the start. As he was starting to feel fed up with the constant endless walking with no end in sight, the sound of music drifted in on the winds, an accordion wheezing its carnival song, and a flute picking up the high notes and accentuating the melody. A circus? Circuses meant a town was nearby, they didn’t just pull up in the middle of nowhere and decide to burst into song. He tapped his thigh, and Echo pulled in close, trotting next to him on her best behaviour as Claude ducked into some bushes, taking what he assumed to be a shortcut judging on the direction of the noise. 

It took him little over fifteen minutes to reach the source of the noise, a small circus made up of six different rickety caravans, five of which were daubed with faded coloured paint and had their doors wide open and streams of fabric hanging from bamboo poles making tunnels for people to mill through. There were adults with their kids hanging from their arms, squealing in delight as a clown wandered past with big squeaky shoes, and clapping as a juggler on stilts staggered by, balls blurring in his hands and he threw and caught them. One man, in a tall top hat and a pair of sequined suspenders crashed a mallet into a gong, commanding the attention from the crowd. 

“Ladies and gentlemans!” His voice carried, and everyone stopped in their tracks to listen to his deep tone. “The show is about to begin! Please come into the big tent, and you can see the main attraction of the Mouzal carnival, a ferocious beast who we have tamed into being docile!” He clapped his hands and started beckoning people towards a large striped tent in the centre of the clearing. Intrigue overtook Claude, who followed the throng of people in, and stood at the back in the shadows, curious to see this  _ beast  _ they were on about. Part of him suspected it was a dragon, and he would have to snip the chains on the cage and release it if it was. The lights clicked on, and spotlights shone down onto a forlorn looking lion stood on a podium, mane hanging imply around his face, eyes downcast. At a crack of a whip he lifted his chin and bared his teeth. Claude knew that expression well. It wasn’t a teeth bearing of anger, or even fear. No, it was the face he trained dragon’s to make so he could check their teeth. The lion was bored, and cooperating. The whip cracked again, this time catching it’s nose, and both Claude and Echo flinched as the lion roared, the fabric of the tent shaking. After a few more minutes of watching the lion being whipped at and prodded around the ring with a sharp iron pole, Claude left the tent, seething. He couldn’t let this carry on. 

The show wrapped up some fifty minutes later, and Claude had been sat outside the whole time, watching the staff take down the rest of the stalls, auction off handcrafted goods at half price just so they didn’t have to pack them away and take them away. He watched the lion be guided from the back using large pieces of metal like shields, bashing his haunches to get him to move forward. Claude wanted to step forward and tell them to stop it, to point out his body language was submissive, that he had given up, and wasn’t even putting up a fight at this point. They didn’t need to be rough. Instead, he left his disdainful glare on them as they headed towards a sixth caravan. The sixth was set out of the group, like an arm off a torso, and instead of a wooden caravan suitable for people to sleep and live in, it was three quarters metal bars, iron judging by the orange dusting of rust at the top and bottom. The other quarter was patchy sheet metal bolted together haphazardly as if they didn't actually care about making sure it kept out wind or rain. Seeing how they treated the animal on stage, he guessed he wasn’t actually far off with that assessment. They left his sight and he stood up, brushing some dirt off his clothes, and waited for the last person to leave before he headed towards the cage. 

Laying on the ground of the cage was the lion. Now Claude was closer, he could see he was a pale, honey-yellow lion with specks of brown sugar dappling his fur. His eyes were closed, a streak of his mane dangling between them, waving in the breeze that whistled through the bars. Judging by the way the fur was clumped in his paws, he had gotten wet somehow whether it was rain or the circus owners with a hose. Nowhere in the cage was an area designed to be warm, or dry. He huffed in annoyance and put one hand on the bars, tapping a fingernail quietly to get the animal’s attention. The lion looked up at him with sheer blue eyes, and Claude felt… something. He wasn’t sure what, but  _ something.  _ Echo yipped, her tail knocking over a box with a crash as Claude went to remove his lockpicking set from his pack. 

"Who goes there? The circus is closed!" A voice growled from a few metres away, and Claude turned his head, noticing a cooking fire and a man now stood up next to it. Claude assumed it was the strong man speaking, his biceps bigger than his own head and his shirt straining at the seams. Claude held his hands up in a sign for surrender, a wide smile on his face as he let himself slip into his natural state of conniving and clever. Maybe he could rescue the lion  _ legally.  _

“Hi! Hi. My name is Claude, I uh- I am travelling in these parts. I just came across your circus, I am intrigued! Is that a lion? He is handsome. Well trained. Obedient” He gestured to the lion, who raised his lip a little to flash canines, which didn’t scare Claude at all. “Can I purchase him?” the strongman reached for a weapon, approaching Claude holding a pitchfork with hay and straw stuck to it. 

“No you cannot just buy the star of our show!” The ringmaster appeared from a small caravan, top hat askew. “There is no amount of money you could offer that would make me even consider it. Besides, he is ferocious, one wrong move and he will kill you where you stand. If you don’t have any experience with beasts-”

“No amount? Not even 50 gold pieces?” Claude reached to a pouch on his belt and jiggled it so it rattled. “Not even… 50 shiny gold pieces?” He unclipped the pouch and let it fall into his hand, watching the way the ringmaster’s eyes followed it. The man’s jowls twitched as he stared, and Claude knew he had him, hook, line and sinker.

“With that we could buy a less bastardly lion…” the strongman muttered, glancing from the ringmaster, to Claude, and then back to the ringmaster. 

“You could. I merely want the beast to take to a zoo, that is all. He will not become a coat nor a plate on a table, but to a zoo starting up a few towns over. You can leave his carriage here, and trundle along to a town you can eat until you are fat, then purchase another beast, and a carriage that isn’t about to crumble.” Claude squeezed the pouch, pushing a coin against the fabric so they could see the outline of it. The ringmaster held out his hand, licking his thin lips in a lewd way. 

“I would like to count them. Let me count, and we will leave.” Claude had no objection, because he knew the coins were real, and he threw the pouch into the dust between them. The lion snarled at the  _ chink  _ sound and watched as the ringmaster scurried forwards, frantically counting as if the gold was about to vanish from between his fingers. After a few tense minutes he stood up beaming, and shook Claude’s hand vigorously. “Thank you for the deal my good sir. In a box inside that door,” he pointed to a door on the lion’s carriage, “is his things. A scoop, a whip, and a crossbow with bolts to kill things like pigeons for his tea. Don’t go inside the cage without the whip, he will rip you to shreds.” And with that he waved the strongman and other members of the circus back into their caravans and he whipped the horses pulling his own, kicking them into gear to gallop away. Cowards, the lot of them. Claude thought it was hilarious the fact they sold the ‘star’ of their show with barely a blink, and then ran away from the scene. It did mean if he was savaged by the lion, nobody but Echo to help. Though, if he was right, he wouldn’t need the help.

Claude tucked the now empty fabric pouch into his belt and watched the direction the circus had left in, waiting to see if they came back for some reason. They didn’t, and he untied a dark blue scarf someone had left knotted around a branch, wrapping it around his waist for safe keeping. Just in case he needed something like a tourniquet. 

“So. It’s just you and us now.” He spoke towards the trees, but the words he said were directed at someone behind him. From inside the cage, pacing anxiously, the lion halted, ears swivelling towards Claude. He was… speaking  _ to  _ him? “I know you can understand me, you’re not a daft beast like they had you pegged to be.” With a low growl the lion responded, huffing air out of his nose. The strange man was right, he wasn’t stupid. Well. He had been stupid enough to get caught, but that didn’t make him  _ actually  _ stupid. He sat down with a thump, tail swishing, posture now relaxed as he realised Claude wasn’t a danger to him. More of an asset than anything else. “And I know that you’re not truly a beast.” That made him stand back up in recoil, eyes going wide. He knew? How could he know? Claude turned, and a wide smile spread across his handsome face. “It’s your eyes. They’re so human. So full of feeling. Now, will you be a good kitty and let me let you out?”


	3. Two

_ It might be a ladder to the stars who knows, come all you no hopers, jokers and rogues  _

Days later, they had completely abandoned the ramshackle caravan in favour for simply walking places. Claude decided that changing course to the west in order to head back to his home was a smarter course of action with his new travel partner. The partner who was beside him, plodding along in silence, the dark blue scarf tied around his neck in a collar-like fashion. Claude teased that it matched his eyes, and the lion would bat him with his paw, knocking him over. 

“It’s not much further till my place now.” Claude explained as he tapped a hand on a red signpost. “I painted this red so I couldn’t get lost. And back at mine I think I might have something to help you.” The lion huffed again, not putting much stock in it. He knew it was a curse, and he knew he was doomed to spend the whole of the rest of his life in this fur covered body, so he didn’t want to get his hopes up and think that Claude would have something to help him, without a doubt. “I have a friend, a wizard, she knows a lot of things. It - the thing I have - it was a gift years ago that I never thought I’d find use for. I’m glad I kept it though! Then it would be nice to find out your name, I wish I didn’t have to call you kitty all the time.”  _ It’s Dimitri,  _ the lion thought to himself, stopping to scratch at a nearby tree, leaving huge gouges in the bark. The final half hour of their journey was pleasant enough in the sunshine, and then they finally reached Claude’s house, Dimitri flopped down in the dust and stretched, exposing his soft belly fur to the midday sun, purring loudly. Being with the circus he’d never gotten the chance to stretch like this, feel the warmth of the sun and the softness of the breeze, and he spread his toes, yawning widely. His body shuddered with the force of the stretch before he relaxed, closing his eyes. He'd been stuck with the circus for so long he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be  _ free.  _

Claude had gone ahead and inside without checking on his feline friend, and it was only when he stepped back outside his front door he saw what he was doing. He couldn't withhold a chuckle at the big cat who was sprawled on the ground, a low purr rumbling from his throat. 

"Here kitty kitty." He teased, and as the beast's blue eyes shot over to Claude, who was holding a thin braided cord, at the bottom of which swang a delicate blue crystal, swinging like a pendulum. "Told you I still had it." The lion rolled onto his belly, resting his chin in his large fluffy paws, tracing the movement of the pendant with his eyes, watching it's hypnotic course go back and forth, back and forth. "You should just need to hold it." Claude tossed it in a neat arch and it fell just before his paws. The lion stared at it. This? It looked like something a lover would give to their partner, a pretty dainty thing that shone in the light. Or, it could be a trap. But then again, why would it be a trap? Claude paid a lot of gold for him, and for days had been nothing but kind, talking to him, feeding him, even scratching that little bit behind his ears that he loved. There was no reason for Claude  _ to  _ be leading him into a trap. And also, what did he actually have to lose? Time spent in a beastly form hat prevented him from living his life as he should? It wasn’t worth risking eternity in this form to  _ not  _ try Claude’s remedy. He stretched out one paw, and placed it on top of the crystal. 

After nothing happened for a few seconds, Claude got worried he had found the wrong thing. Maybe it had expired - could magical items expire? Dimitri too was worried. Was it actually a trap? Was something bad about to happen? Both of their worries were dispelled when a ball of white light engulfed the animal, and then vanished to reveal a man. A dishevelled, confused looking man, who looked up at Claude with his jaw hanging agape. 

"You-" the man cleared his throat, gripping the necklace so tight his knuckles were white, as if letting it go would mean he would vanish into thin air. "You fixed me. You actually fixed me." The man who was now sat where the lion once was handsome, devilishly so, hair the same honey blonde as the lion’s fur and shaggy just like his mane in beast form. His skin was nigh on perfect, except for a scar across his eye, the scarred eye a milky blue instead of the shocking ice of the other. He seemed tall, but it was impossible to tell exactly how tall because he was wearing a large cape of dark blue velvet with a white and black trim. The fur looked thick, thick enough for Claude to bury his fingers completely into. Under the cloak, he was wearing - oh. He was wearing  _ nothing _ . Claude swallowed thickly and averted his eyes, giving the naked-but-for-the-cloak man some privacy. 

Because he wasn’t looking, Claude didn’t see the way the man’s cheeks glowed a bright pink as he wrapped the cloak around his waist, leaving his chest exposed to the warm sunlight. It didn’t feel as nice as it had warming his fur as a lion, his skin couldn’t retain the heat like fur could. The world was alien now, the smells and sounds and sights just so different than what he’d experienced for the past few years. 

“I-” he coughed, voice sounding  _ odd  _ seeing as he hadn’t used it for so long. “Thank you.” the words were thick in his mouth as he remembered how to speak. “Do you have… clothes I can borrow?” Claude nodded, now looking back at him. 

“Before I let a strange lion-man wear my clothes, can I get a name?” 

“Dimitri. My name... is Dimitri.”

Inside the house, Dimitri ran his hand over the fabric of a towel in the room Claude had ushered him into, urging him to take a shower, and he would leave folded clothes by the door for him when he was done. The towel was thick and luscious, and Dimitri couldn’t help rubbing his cheek against the softness, closing his eyes. He hadn’t been near something so soft for years. He hadn’t been near a towel at all since capture by the circus, they just sprayed him with cold water and let him air dry, which in the summer had been pleasant. The winter, not so much. He reached into the shower cubicle and turned a dial to the middle as Claude had recommended and he withdrew his arm swiftly away from the cold water that shot from the shower head. It reminded him of the hose, which he did  _ not  _ like. If he had still been a lion, he would have hissed at it. After a few minutes steam started to coil around the room and he breathed in deeply, the steam feeling heavenly as he inhaled it. He grabbed the bar of soap from beside the sink and stepped under the water with a loud gasp, rubbing his palms over his face. Warm water hammered into his muscles and he felt the tension in them begin to melt away as he finally relaxed. He felt vaguely unsteady on two feet, much more used now to being on four and having a low centre of gravity, but concentrating on nothing but the heat of the water and the smell of the soap helped him acclimatise to being six foot two tall, instead of his previous three foot.

Claude listened to the door, waiting for the water sounds to indicate someone was standing under it and he left, heading to his bedroom for the closet. Dimitri was bigger than him, taller that is, and was built broader. His shoulders were at least two inches wider than Claude’s, and he found himself thinking about how strong Dimitri must be, how much power he could put out from the muscles he had spotted rippling beneath his skin. Surely years as a wild animal had done wonders for his form, having no choice than using all his muscles at once. He told himself off for a second, why was he daydreaming about the muscles of a man he had only just met? He grabbed a baggy pair of grey trousers, ones he saved to wear for when he was feeling unwell, and a white t-shirt and folded them neatly into little squares, placing them just outside the door for when he was done. He headed into his cluttered kitchen then, clearing various jars of potions and pastes off the workspace back onto the shelves where they belonged so he had the space to fill a teapot with water, ready to make them both some tea. 


	4. Three

_ Leave all your furrows in the fields where they lie, _

_ Your factories and offices kiss them all goodbye _

“I used the spear once,” Dimitri ran a thumb around the thin rim of the cup he was drinking from, staring down at his sepia expression rippling in the drink. “I had to. There was this beast, looming on the edge of the smaller villages in far North Faerghus, and no normal weapons had been able to touch it. So, I went to this cave my father showed me, and retrieved the weapon that is passed down in my family from heir to heir. I took it, I defeated the beast, and then I returned it. Simple as that, or so I thought. It… haunted me. The feeling of the spear. The more time went past, the more I felt this craving to take it in my hand again and to lay waste to… well, everything.” He kicked the stone floor and leant back in his chair, exasperated as he retold the story. He remembered the day clear as crystal as if it had only been days, not nearly years since it had happened. He could still feel the weight of Areadbhar in his hands, feel the coldness of the shaft, the way it leaked like ice water into his blood and coursed around, taking a hold of him. He never wanted to feel like it again. It had been like someone else had been moving him from the inside, like he was merely a puppet to the spear’s whim. “The longer I refused to use it, the more mad I felt. Until one day, I awoke as a beast.”

“You didn’t take the spear back in hand, and it turned you into a beast?”

“I know what it sounds like, but I’m not lying. I wouldn’t lie about it. If I was going to lie, I’d at least make it sound believable.” 

“Yes. Thankfully, the blood thirst I had been feeling was gone when I awoke in animal form, and I could slip out of my residence and off into the forests. I was going fine on my own for about a year, and then the circus found me, trapped me, and I was with them… ever since. And then you, well, you know from then.” He poked at a knot in the wood of the table. “I know it sounds stupid, cursed spear and all, I know how it sounds. But… it’s true. And you’ve gone very quiet.” He looked across the table at Claude, who was staring just past his head out of the kitchen window.

“I’m thinking. I could have sworn I’d read something like it in a book once. Something about a spear with an insatiable blood thirst, so much so it will transform it’s wielders into monsters if they do not satisfy its cravings.” That sounded about right, Dimitri thought. Insatiable blood thirst was definitely one way to describe how he had felt those weeks before turning into a lion.

“Really?” Claude sipped at his tea, deep in thought, eyes unfocused as he drifted off into memories to try and recall where he had seen the information. He shut his eyes for a second and breathed in, the smell of leather and old books filling his nose as he searched for it in his mind, determined to place it. 

“I think… I’m certain that it was at school. Garreg Mach. I think I read it in my last year there. A dark blue tome. Leather bound.” A smug smile tugged on his lips, and he felt pleased with himself for that. Something was making Dimitri look less than happy, and Claude cocked his head. “What’s that face for?” He should be happy, Claude just remembered where they could find some information that could help them break this damn curse. 

“You said Garreg Mach. You went there too?”  _ Too?  _

“I did, I was in the Golden Deer house. About oh, it must have been seven years ago now. They had a wonderful library there, so full of old books with priceless information. When I couldn’t sleep I would go down there and read until my eyes hurt. Why, were you there?” Stupid question Claude, he already said he was there. Claude wanted to facepalm, but didn’t think it would make him look as cool and suave as he was trying to portray he was.

“Around the same time, actually. I was in Blue Lions. The leader of the Blue Lions, actually. I spent more time on the training fields than anywhere else when I wasn’t in class though. I was nearly undefeated.” 

“Nearly? Who could beat someone your size?” Dimitri prodded Claude in the leg under the table with his foot, and Claude did the same back, the both of them exchanging a laugh. 

“An old family friend, named Felix. Haughty and self-centred a lot of the time, but a truly flawless swordsman.” His last sword fight with Felix, Felix had won in record time, flicking the sword Dimitri had wielded from his hand to send it clattering into the dirt. Two years of training had sharpened the already natural time to a fine art that Dimitri had never seen before, and hadn’t seen since. He wondered briefly what had become of Felix before Claude spoke again and distracted him. “In any case, does this information you recalled have any insight on how to break the curse? I don’t wish to turn back into a lion any time soon, I have had enough of that form for at least a lifetime.” 

Claude shook his head, and a pang of regret went through him as if it was his fault he couldn’t remember a history book from years ago. 

“No. I just remember the tome was titled something along the lines of  _ Fhirdiad History: the Mythos of Loog _ , and it was dark blue. It should still be in the library though, I don’t imagine they throw books out on a regular basis, even after seven years.” Dimitri hummed in agreement and swigged back the rest of his tea, grimacing ever so slightly at the grainy texture of the tea leaves at the bottom. 

“I should get going there then.” He needed to get to that library, find that book, and work out a way to be able to break the curse. He couldn’t live his life knowing if somehow he lost the necklace now resting around his neck, he would transform back into a beast. It gave him an achilles heel, and he couldn’t have that. He pushed the chair back so he could stand up, but Claude was on his feet before Dimitri could stand. 

“You’re going nowhere today. We are going to have a meal tonight, pack a bag each with supplies, get a good night’s sleep, and head there tomorrow. There’s no chance you’re going without me, and I’m not going without being prepared. So sit down. Or help me make dinner. But you’re not leaving. Not until dawn.” Claude picked up the empty cup and placed it down in the sink. “And you’re not meant to  _ drink  _ the tea leaves, who raised you?” Dimitri flushed, and stood up anyway, moving to stand beside Claude at the sink, unsure what to do with himself. 

“I… we didn’t drink tea.” Claude tutted and turned the tap, sending a stream of water into the cups to rinse out the remainder of the liquid. 

“Well you missed out. Come on. We will give Echo a bath, and pack a backpack each for tomorrow.” 

Giving a young wyvern a bath wasn’t the task Dimitri thought he’d be doing, but it was more fun that he would have imagined it would be. Echo loved to play in the floating soap bubbles and cover both he and Claude in water, and they both found themselves laughing at the way she snapped her teeth at the white foam, tail swishing like she was a vicious huntress stalking her prey. She even pounced on Claude at one point, pinning him down by the shoulder and lathering her tongue over his face like an overgrown dog. He had worried for a second that she was going to hurt him, but when Claude shoved her off with ease and tweaked her ear, he knew his worry was for nothing. 

They packed the backpacks with various long-life food items, a book on identifying edible plants, and a waterskin each. Claude had to go through his wardrobe and find Dimitri a few more clothes that would fit, even though they both agreed they’d have money to buy them from retailers should needs be. Speaking of money, each tucked a pouch of 50 gold right in the bottom of the packs, so it was out of the way of sticky fingered thieves, but accessible. Claude wandered around his house with the bag open, tossing what looked like random knick knacks into it, although he tried to explain to Dimitri the whole time what they were. Empty vials for putting things in, vials of oil for burning, a tinderbox for fire making. A small box of bones Claude said was for divination, and a pendulum for the same time. He also threw in a tarnished compass and tapped the side of his nose, as if the compass was more than just a compass. Dimitri watched him gather the objects, and marvelled at how he knew his way around the house with such ease, especially when it was what could only be described as artfully cluttered. 

Books were piled from floor to ceiling in seemingly no order, although Claude would dart from pile to pile to look for one, pull it out and read a few pages, like he was topping up a cup of knowledge before he would put it on a new pile. The house itself was probably bigger than it looked, although Claude had filled it to the brim with aforementioned books, fabrics, large storage trunks, some of which didn’t close properly, and rolled up pieces of paper that Dimitri could see were written on, but he didn’t have the space to unravel any to see exactly what was on them. As Claude flitted about he hummed tunes Dimitri had never heard before, and swayed his hips in time with an invisible beat. It was infectious, and Dimitri had never wanted to get up and dance to unheard music before. He didn’t though, because he didn’t want to distract Claude from whatever he was doing. 

“So, you’re from Faerghus right?” Claude called through from the kitchen as Dimitri was busy folding a set of trousers for the third time, brimming with nervous energy. “I heard the lilt in your accent that’s all. What’s it like there, I’ve not really been.” 

“I am from Faerghus. You’ve heard of the Blaiddyd family I assume?” Claude nodded, opening a book and drawing his finger down the page, reminding himself of the contents. 

“Oh definitely. Old King Blaiddyd was such a nice person, it’s such a shame his son vanished a few years ago. He seemed so sweet.” Dimitri nearly dropped the bag he was holding, the strap fumbling through his fingers. “I’ve been wondering what happened to him. Cornelia took over so swiftly that there’s been a lot of worry the poor kid was killed. Some say he was thrown into the dungeons of Castle Fhirdiad, and was never going to see the light of day again. Me? I always thought he managed to get away from there. Hell, I doubt he was even there when things went awry. If he had half the compassion King Lambert did, then there's no way he would have just  _ let _ Cornelia walk over him like that.” Despite what he was saying, Claude wasn’t stupid. He knew who Dimitri was. He had seen Old King Blaiddyd plenty of times, tall, big shoulders, blonde hair the colour of fresh straw but the texture of woven silk, and eyes like endless pools. Dimitri was the image of his late father, except his eyes carried a unique sadness he’d never seen on the previous king. Then again, spending an ungodly amount of time as a lion would do that to someone. Unable to speak, to feel like normal,unable to do anything like normal. Unless Dimitri offered him that information himself though, he didn't plan on dropping it in. 

“Oh…” Dimitri started, putting a book down that he’d been leafing through looking for any mention of the word curse. He wasn’t sure how to phrase the sentence ‘hey, that’s me, I’m the guy you’re talking about', but he had to try. Claude was helping him anyway, but he needed Claude to know how urgent his situation was. "Well, I think you're right. That he wasn't even there when the take over happened, and he couldn't have done anything about it, or he would have done." He passed Claude a book that he was pointing too, and he cleared his throat. "I know that he's not dead, or in a dungeon." 

"You do?" Claude feigned surprise in his voice as he started to rifle through little bottles of herbs, picking ones to take with them, ones to heal injuries, ones to poison enemies, ones to put enemies to sleep. "How could you possibly know that?" 

"Because he's me." Dimitri watched Claude for a reaction, and noticed that Claude was holding back a laugh at this point. "What's- why are you laughing?" Claude barely withheld a snort and he looked at Dimitri with a 'really?' expression on his face. 

"Because, your highness, you and your father are the very image of each other. I knew who you were the second I saw your face." Dimitri flushed a pink, and he looked away, feeling foolish. "Hey, it's fine. I'm glad you told me. Now grab that pile of books and help me read through them for anything useful."

**Author's Note:**

> please remember to like, comment, and come find me on twitter @nothinggoeshere <3


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